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I flew back to New Delhi after an overseas trip; can’t quite remember from where. The monsoon season was at its peak and we landed in the middle of a very heavy thunderstorm. Parking bays at the airport seemed at a premium as a result of which there was a fairly long wait after touchdown till the pilot was cleared for an aerobridge. Although immigration and baggage clearance didn’t take too long, I spent a fair bit of time at the Delhi Duty Free outlet trying to find a couple of bottles of good wine. While searching, I suddenly got the urge to buy something for Sunita. That took a while because I wasn’t sure what I should get her, knowing her rather frugal habits. I decided on a small bottle of perfume, naturally French. By the time I got out of the airport and found Bahadur, it was almost 1 o’clock in the morning.
The heavy rain, and Delhi’s unfortunate state of road drainage coupled to add another hour and a half before we finally reached my apartment. The rain had stopped and although I suggested that Bahadur could stay over, he insisted on returning to his home with a request for the morning off on the following day. It was Saturday in any case so I told him he needn’t come in for duty till Monday morning. Bahadur helped me with my suitcase, placing it in the elevator, before we wished one another a good night. I pressed the penthouse button and leaned back against the walls of the lift, feeling very tired and exhausted.
I had promised to send my notes to some colleagues in Paris and London over the weekend so I knew I had a couple of hours work ahead of me before I could actually relax over the next couple of days. The lobby light came on automatically as I stepped out of the elevator and walked to the door of my apartment. Being as late as it was I didn’t want to disturb my maid who was possibly asleep, so I fished out the keys from my briefcase and opened the door. The bedside lamp was on and partially illuminated the living room. Across on the other side I saw Sunita’s bedroom door open just a crack but with no light on inside. I quietly pulled my suitcase in, shut and locked the door behind me, and went into my bedroom.
It took me half an hour to unpack, throw clothes for washing into a corner of the room, rig up my laptop, have a quick shower, pull on a pair of old faded jeans and a t-shirt, and make myself a Jack Daniels on the rocks. I decided to sit down and get as much of the work out of the way so I could enjoy the weekend without too much tension. I laboured for two straight hours and finished the report but chose not to send it immediately, thinking I would review it sometime later in the day after I had rested. It was almost 5 o’clock in the morning and I was unsure of what to do: should I go to bed and try and sleep? Should I go out for an early morning drive? I wasn’t sleepy enough but I was too tired to drive around aimlessly. I stepped out on to my terrace and breathed in the cleanly washed air; the rain had stopped and it was relatively cool outside, especially if I could catch a breeze. I removed my t-shirt and felt the cool but damp air against my skin. The sun would start its journey across the sky in about an hour and a half, making the day muggy as it went along.
I stepped back into the apartment and slid into my leather recliner, pushed the backrest to an angle, raised the footrest and lay back. But I was restless, and unable to understand why. I didn’t want to put on any music for fear of waking Sunita. I wasn’t sure what time she normally got up but I suspected it would be soon. I got up and made myself another drink, still wondering what to do. I hadn’t had a drink on the flight; in fact I hadn’t had a drink for the last two days which had been extremely busy. The alcohol began to hit me; a nice buzz coming into my brain.
For the last week I had kept thoughts of my maid at bay; it was a conscious struggle because every now and again my mind would wander to her, sometimes thinking about what she might be doing at that moment, but more often to a place I wasn’t sure existed. Ever since a particular episode some weeks, or was it months, ago I would contemplate the surrealistic hallucination that pervaded my brain. Or maybe it wasn’t an illusion, maybe it had actually happened. It was driving me crazy trying to figure out the truth.
I had a not too vague recollection of the night. It had been an emotional day of sorts with Sunita getting strangely depressed and my own inability to fully comprehend her emotions. I had gone out that evening, got slammed with booze at a couple of bars and returned home to crash into bed. But beyond that my recollection is in the fluid phantom zone although I can almost still feel the physical pleasure that I enjoyed after that. I can still feel Sunita’s nakedness against me, her large wholesome breasts on my body, her hands and mouth around the thickness of my penis, her tongue licking the underside of my testicles, my own hands running through her hair… It’s all so real in my mind.
I even feel the huge explosions of semen gush from my cock into her mouth, Sakarya Escort her swallowing every drop. In fact my memory of the intensity of my ejaculation, the violence of my thrusting into her mouth, still amazes me with its reality. I even remember waking up with no sleeping clothes on, at least not the tracksuit bottom I generally wore to bed. Yet, I cannot say for sure that it happened, or for that matter what exactly happened. Maybe it was just a dream, another one of my many nocturnal emissions with Sunita playing havoc in my subconsciousness. And my maid had neither spoken nor hinted at any such occurrence; and I was simply unable to ask her about it.
Now, still restless and slightly on the edge, I walked with whiskey tumbler in hand towards her room and peered in through the crack in the door but couldn’t see anything in the darkness. With the toe of one foot, I nudged the door in by a couple of inches but still couldn’t make out anything. Whether as an excuse or some other reason, I convinced myself I was getting worried not knowing whether Sunita was in her room and whether she was alright. With my free hand I pushed the door open some more and in the very faint light made out a shape on the bed, covered in a thin printed sheet. The light from my own bedside lamp across at the other end of flat cut through the otherwise pitch darkness of the apartment. I stood in my maid’s doorway and stared at the figure outlined on the bed, taking an occasional sip from my glass. Suddenly my throat seemed to constrict; there was a dryness and a thirst that I needed to quench so I took a large gulp of the whiskey and left all rational thought at the door.
I stepped into her room and pushed the door shut behind me without a sound. Draining the last of my Jack Daniels, I placed the tumbler on a shelf and proceed silently and surreptitiously towards her bed. Unable to turn around and leave her presence, I took a few more steps till I reached the side of her bed. Sunita lay on her side, her back to the wall, facing the side I was standing on. There was too little light, almost none, for me to make out the details of her face; the rest of her was covered loosely by the bed-sheet. The air-conditioning was running and kept the room a little on the cool side, perhaps 20 degrees centigrade.
Once again, refusing to let rational thought prevent me from what I was doing, I walked almost zombie-like to the foot of the bed and stared up at her. Although the shape I saw was an amorphous sculpture of cotton bed-sheet, I thought I could decipher the indentation of her waist and the swell of her hips and the tapering of her legs beneath the cover. As I stood there, I noticed the woman’s feet were uncovered; I bent down very slightly and rested a finger on her foot just to feel her flesh. A strange sensation ran through me as I stood there; I thought I could feel her pulse as I stroked an ankle with one finger. I felt a sudden warmth in my body and stopped to wonder if it was on account of the alcohol or was something more ethereal happening.
As my eyes adjusted to the near complete darkness, I was able to make out the contours of her face, albeit very faintly. I walked slowly and silently to the head of her bed and stared down at Sunita, my heart now almost in my mouth. It wasn’t fear of being discovered, although that should have been a concern. It was once again the captivating beauty of this woman; not just her physical beauty of which I was obviously enamoured, but more of a metaphysical kind, something that pulled at my heart strings. I felt my heart pump in heavy thumps as I continued to stare down at her.
Then slowly, I bent my knees and lowered myself so that my face came in line with hers. This was very brave of me, but rational thought had long left my mind. I stared at her face, now seeing a lot more clearly; her long eyelashes, eyebrows that were thick but looked neatly trimmed, the gentle swell of her nose, a broadish forehead, one ear partially covered by strands of long hair, and her lips. Deliciously full and strangely gleaming in the faint ambient light, and a strong well rounded chin extending to a clearly visible jawline. Again, not knowing what I was doing, and not really caring, I leaned forward and planted a kiss on her forehead. Drawing back, I observed the sculpted beauty of her sleeping face, then again bent forward and touched her lips with my own.
Conscious that my breath would surely smell of alcohol, I withdrew and stood up but found myself unable to leave her side, unable to control any of my actions. There was a heavy but pleasurable weight that had descended over me; an emotional cloak that radiated love for this woman sleeping in front of me. The chill of the air-conditioning was seeping into my body and for one lucid moment I thought of leaving Sunita’s room and going back out into the living room, or maybe even to bed. I was conscious that I was not in a state of physical arousal inasmuch as I wasn’t sporting a hard-on, but there was a stirring deep in my body that I hadn’t experienced Sakarya Escort Bayan ever before.
The lucid moment passed. I turned and walked again to the foot of the bed; then bending one knee I moved partially on to Sunita’s bed and stopped absolutely still. I was shocked at my own behaviour but equally aware that I no more had control over my actions. I pulled up my other knee and knelt on all fours, now staring at the back of her head. Her long tresses had no doubt initially been knotted loosely on her head but had since slid open leaving swathes of black silken hair all over her pillow and beneath her on the bed. I inched forward stealthily, stretching my legs out as I moved and settled down with my head on her pillow and my feet dangling over the edge at the other end. I was now between my maid and the wall against which her bed was placed; I lay on my side, my chest almost touching her back.
Raising my head and resting it on the palm of my right hand, I looked down at her sleeping body. While getting on to the bed I had unintentionally dragged the bed sheet almost completely off Sunita’s body, the covering now barely draped over her shins and ankles with most of it lying on the floor. She lay on her side, facing away from me, her head peacefully resting on her pillow almost a foot below my head. Some of the long strands of her hair delicately washed over her face and fell to the front of her chest. I could now smell the clean soft aroma of her bath soap and shampoo exuding off her hair and body. Bending my neck forward an inch, I placed my nose tentatively against her hair and breathed in the sweetness in long gentle inhalations.
Still no sense of fear; I never for a moment stopped to think of the consequences if Sunita was to wake up. Or rather, when Sunita wakes up. I bent my head again and nuzzled her scalp, raising my left arm from my hip and placing it on hers. Then I froze. I was again hit by a random thought: how far did I want to take this. But that bit of lucidity passed just as quickly as the earlier ones with a “we’ll cross that bridge when the time comes”.
I looked down at the woman that had stolen my heart, and now I was losing my soul to her. From my vantage point a foot away from her head I caught the profile of her eyelashes from above and for the first time realised how long they were. Although the light was very faint, my sight had adjusted completely by now so I almost seemed to have a peculiar kind of night vision. As I gazed at her length, almost literally from head to toe, I noticed she slept in a blouse and saree. Or at least she was on that particular night; perhaps she had not changed her clothes in anticipation of my arrival (which had been unfortunately delayed).
It was a light powdery blue saree and the blouse was cut of the same cloth I thought. I picked up my hand from her hip and rested it tenderly on her left shoulder, letting my fingers soak in the warmth from her lightly covered skin. Her entire midriff was exposed from below her blouse down to where her saree was tucked into the petticoat. I resisted the urge to touch her bare skin although the desire was now exceedingly high. As I looked down the length of the bed, I observed the swell of her hip from a very narrow waist, and then the taper down to her ankles. Her buttocks looked firm because the saree fit tightly against her rump, the folds being dragged out front from under her. Looking over her shoulder, the shape of her large breasts looked perfect although much of the breast was draped with the pallu of her saree.
Unable to hold back any more, wanting desperately to feel any part of her body, I slid a couple of fingers from where they rested on her shoulder a few inches towards the nape of her neck. Past the stitching at the edge of her blouse, I felt the skin of her neck and rested my hand there. The lowering my head again, I planted my lips on the curve between shoulder and neck and breathed her sweetness in. I moved my mouth very gently as the warmth of my breath glided over the back of her ear. I was now getting aroused; the stirring in my loins was just beginning and I knew that the moment of truth was not too far away.
Sunita stirred. Very slightly, just a movement of her head and a small stretching of her back, and then all movement ceased. I of course froze. After a few seconds of absolute stillness, I slid down a few inches, let my head rest on her pillow, shut my eyes, let my face nuzzle the thickness of her hair, and draped my left arm around her. My hand touched the bed on the other side of her, forearm against her breasts, the elbow crooked over her waist. I lay absolutely still for almost five minutes, waiting for a sign of her waking up. She didn’t. Or not apparently, only her body seemed to adjust itself slightly as though she was removing some tiny element of discomfort like a fold of her saree against skin.
After what seemed an interminably long while, I moved my arm again. Bringing my hand back to her shoulder and upper arm, I stroked gently, my palm rubbing Escort Sakarya partially one the sleeve of her blouse and partly on bare skin. I rubbed along her neck, moving from the back behind her ear across to the front, letting my palm wander towards the top of her chest, fingers tracing the v-line of her blouse. Through these ministrations it was clear to me that Sunita was not wearing a brassiere under her blouse; obviously not wanting the cramped restriction while sleeping. I let my fingers stray lower into her cleavage which was extremely deep because her large breasts were pressed together as she lay on her side. I slid two fingers as far into the crevice as they would go, feeling a slight dampness as I rub between her swollen boobs.
As I moved my palm against her chest, my fingers tracing lines from her neck to her cleavage and back, I felt my loins stir. Constricted by my jeans, my penis was hardening within the confines of the denim. I knew that a bulge was forming in my trousers and I would soon unconsciously begin to urge my body forward and against this voluptuous woman that lay next to me. Having disposed of my t-shirt some time ago on the terrace, my chest was already against her back and maybe she would feel my stomach against the bare skin of her lower torso. Unable any more to show restraint, I took her left breast into my hand, enveloping the fullness in my palm.
As I squeezed her breast in my hand, I involuntarily shoved my pelvis forward and felt the bulge in my trousers press against Sunita’s buttocks. I also felt her nipple harden against my palm so I took it between my thumb and forefinger, rubbing it to full rigidity within seconds. Sunita sighed with a long exhalation as she moved her body slightly again, tilting her head on the pillow by a few inches and lowering her left shoulder towards my chest so that she was now not completely lying on her side. She was about half way between her earlier position and lying supine on her back. The turn of her hips that followed grazed the heated prominence in my jeans as her buttocks gave way to her hip which now pressed against my covered penis.
I splayed my hand across her bosom, rubbing the other nipple to a tautness that pushed against the powdery blue cotton blouse, tailored to encase her tits to perfection. Bending my head, I nuzzled her hair and her ear, pushing further till my lips touched her neck. I pushed out the tip of my tongue and slid it along the nape of her neck, leaving a cool trail of a few inches that I thought would go some way in waking her up. My mind seemed to have decided on its own to brazen this situation out, long having given up a care about what the repercussions might be.
As I massaged her boobs and lightly pinched her nipples, Sunita moaned; a sound that emanated from deep within her. I had no idea whether she was in a dream or whether she had awoken, or if she was somewhere in between. Lifting up my head, I looked down at her face to see a most beatific expression, tinged with small frown lines that appeared to express desire or even lust, maybe the onset of passion. As I looked at her, I began to unhook the front of her blouse; four hooks in place of buttons from the top of the v-neck down to an inch below the roundness of her tits.
She didn’t awake as I undid the blouse, separating the two flaps as I pushed one to her right side and pulled the other towards myself. Her breasts were firm although without the constriction they moved apart and the cavernous crevice of her cleavage gave way to a deep valley instead. Her nipples were centred in the dark aureoles. Although the absence of illumination made it difficult to gauge the exact colours, there was clearly a sharp distinction between the shades of her breasts, the aureoles and the taut nipples. I rubbed my palm in long strokes across the tips of her nipples which were now protruding by almost a centimetre and a half, the aureoles puckered both on account of the slight chill in the room as well as my actions.
Once again she moved. This time in a long languorous movement, Sunita turned so that she lay on her back. I shifted backwards towards the wall so as to give her more room to get comfortable without any obstacles. Her eyes were shut, her lips slightly parted, the gleam of wetness still visible. She drew her right arm and rested it on her stomach, her left hand outstretched along the side of her body, dangerously close to the ever hardening bulge in my pants. The pallu of her saree had fallen off the edge of the bed as a result of which her upper body was now completely exposed to my view, apart from where the sleeves of her blouse still covered the upper arms.
When she seemed to have settled down, I took my hand and rested it next to hers on the flatboard stomach, my fingers next to her belly button. I massaged the smooth flatness of her stomach, letting a finger occasionally delve into her navel. Pulling myself away from the wall, I let my body touch hers; my chest against her left outstretched arm and my thighs against hers. The warmth from Sunita’s thighs filtered through the folds of her petticoat and saree and I could feel it through the denim against my own thighs. Lowering my hand from her stomach, past the point where her saree was tucked in at the hips, I let my palm move against the strong lines of her shank till I reached her knee.
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